The Imperfections
by ClassyAnimeNerd
Summary: Arthur saw himself as flawed. Worthless. Damaged. He deserved the life he was given. Francis seemed to have it all. He was perfect. What would he see in someone like Arthur? But what if he had his own Dark Side? What are his secrets? Maybe everyone has their own imperfections. Fruk. TRIGGERS: Self-harm, abuse, rape, depression, language, and adult situations. Don't like Don't read.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my next Fruk fic. I haven't posted in a while because life is busy. I hope you enjoy. This first chapter is more of a prologue. The next chapter will be a time skip ahead. **

**WARNINGS: This fic is dark and gruesome with Language, rape, abuse, self-harm, depression, anxiety, bullying, and light mentions of sexual situations if you can't handle or don't like, please leave now. **

**Summary: Arthur saw himself as a disgusting person who deserved the life he was given, even though he hated it. He was imperfect. Everyone around him seemed to have it so much better. And no one seemed more perfect than Francis Bonnefoy. That boy seemed to have everything: looks, friends, and a good personality. But what secrets does Francis have? What if he wasn't as perfect as Arthur originally thought? Perhaps he had his own set of imperfections.**

**Disclaimer: I, in no way shape or form, own the anime Hetalia or any of its characters, and I never will. **

_The Imperfections_

_Chapter 1:_

_Unlucky _

Let's just say my deck of cards for life weren't that great. That is, my life was rough in almost every viewpoint. Of course, as most of these tales go, no one knew that, who would notice anyway? I spent my life living day to day, my main focus was survival. I'm not just speaking of high school. My family was as dysfunctional as it got until it was only my father and I. I try as hard as I can to act normal to the public, but the secrets of that house were dark and painful. Long baggy sleeves and pants were my normal, trying to hide the pain and punishments I received from the only one left who was supposed to care. I was convinced that my life would always be like this, full of hardship and misery; my imperfections were too great. Who would care about someone as damaged and broken as me?

The last year of High School was supposed to be the time where everything was coming together, creating the path for one's life and happiness. Students visited universities and began final preparations for when they left the nest and began the long journey of adulthood. Everyone was so excited on that first day that it was almost sickening. Thoughtless chatter and giggles filled the hallways of that building I had found refuge in for the past four years. I hated how they could all be so happy when I was so miserable. Selfish, perhaps, but when you were just hoping to make it through the night like I was, you didn't much care about selfishness. I found myself labeled as an outcast. I wasn't even from the same country as these blokes. Then again, this school was oddly diverse. I stuck to myself; who would want to talk to someone like me anyway? I was smart, but only because I had to be if I wanted to get out of here, but my social skills were the equivalent of nothing. I was Arthur Kirkland, the quiet, weird, creepy British boy with large eyebrows that should be ignored or made fun of at all times unless I was needed to get an A on a project.

Friends were not an object of mine. I didn't go to parties or go out of my way to talk to someone. I ate lunch in the bathroom or the library, seeking some peace before going home. Home… the word did not fit where I spent my 'free time'. It was hell. Hell that everyone had managed to escape except me. Why would they leave you behind? Someone would later ask me. The world is indeed a selfish place. My mum left before I could remember, and no one knows what happened to her. As for my brothers, as soon as they were old enough they were gone without a second thought to me. Someone had to take care of father after all. I was the unlucky little brother. Someone had to be the punching bag for him to let out his drunken anger, or be the mute being that did all the cleaning, shopping, and repairs. What they didn't know, however, was how bad it really was, and I would never tell them. I lived day by day working to survive this last year of school, then perhaps travel back home, real home, to England, and maybe, just maybe, be happy.

'It was too early for this' was my first thought as I sat in the back of my first period, History. Students were excited, and these wonderful people of the world had already gotten their laughs from my sad appearance or awkwardness. I sunk down, just waiting for the teacher to attempt to make people listen or get a point across. I had always tried my hardest to get good marks in school, hoping for a chance to be noticed by some college and have a chance of leaving. I made fairly nice grades despite my situation, most likely because education was where I found safety. The long nights I spent hiding in the only room in the house that would lock, the bathroom, were made easier by the books I took home to keep me company. I watched the door, observing who my enemies would be for this class, and began to build up my defense of cold remarks and hard exterior. My body ached from the previous night, and my exhaustion was setting in. I couldn't remember the last time I had comfortably slept in a bed or had a full meal.

Suddenly, I heard the loud laugh of the one person that I actually made an effort in communicating with. Long, overdone blonde hair and sharp blue eyes made their way into the class and scanned for a place to sit. Bonnefoy. The Frog spent his time flirting with every object in the room and was so bright it should be illegal. His flamboyance was known by everyone, and they all loved him for it. Everyone save me, of course. I scowled at his presence, preparing for a year of constant teasing and bickering. I would never admit it, but he was the only one who never had true malice in those accented words of his. His jabs were always out of humor, and I never was truly hurt by them, just very irritated. He probably had spent at least two hours on his hair that morning, as he was the last person in the class. And, of course, as fate would have it, the only seat left was right next to me. I saw the glint in his eyes as he realized this and began to strut over. I put on my best glare as he sat slowly in the seat, and for a moment I debated on actually kicking the whole thing over.

"Well look who it is. Did you miss me, _lapin_?"

I scowled and looked the other way. "As if, frog."

It was stereotypical that French and English people hated each other, but no matter how hard I tried to deny it, I couldn't really hate him. Francis Bonnefoy was the only person who never actually tried to hurt me, and the arguments we had were one of the few things that actually brought me the smallest bit of entertainment. I tried not to say anything to him as the class drug on, as last year we both had our fair share of outbursts. He didn't seem as interested in me today as I thought he would be, and he simply sat and paid attention, casually chewing on his pen cap. How annoying. Even more so was when I realized that I was focusing on this idiot rather than a teacher. Letting out an irritated huff I tried my best to pay attention to the usual 'how this classroom works' lecture. However, as the period went on my mind began to wonder to things it normally did when I didn't have my guard up. What would it be like tonight? How bad would my bruises be? Would he…? I felt a shudder pass through me and suddenly felt very dirty. But I always felt this way. I was filth.

The next thing I knew, the bell sounded and I was shaken from my thoughts. I looked around to make sure I wasn't dreaming and caught the eye of that bloody frog. For a moment I thought he looked concerned as he studied my face for a moment. His eyes that were normally filled with mirth and arrogance had something different to them. I didn't get a head of myself. Why should he care? I wasn't important enough for his time.

"Are you alright? Were you daydreaming of my gorgeous face?" The blasted frog asked with a smirk.

I gave him my sharpest glare and stood up to move on, "Sod off, idiot."

Without looking back I left for my next classes. He probably didn't think anything of it. I managed to make it through physics, calculus, and government before the lunch bell without an incident. Being rather proud of this fact, my day lightened just a little. I knew full well that the lunch room was the equivalent of a war zone, so as always I checked the library. It was crowded to my disappointment. It was the first day after all. With a small sigh I headed towards the other place I could wait out the storm of socialization. Trying to avoid as many people as possible I eventually found the bathroom that no one ever used. Apparently it was too dirty. How fitting. Sliding to the floor in the last stall, I closed my eyes. I could finally take a small break from everything happening around me. I relished in the silence that was comfortable rather than tense. I read over the different writings on the walls for the thousandth time since this started. I had them memorized by now. My eyes fluttered and I tried to think of positives that were coming. English class was next, my favorite. That would be good. After that, I went to creative writing and phycology before I had to return to my cage.

As the bell rang signaling a return into the loud chaos of the hallways, the familiar nervous feeling settled in my gut. I knew I would be home in the next three hours. I would be with him. Standing up slowly, I moved as quickly as I could and found my English class promptly. The teacher already sat at his desk chatting with another student. I instantly recognized him as Mr. Vargas, the guardian of Lovino and Feliciano Vargas, twin brothers from Italy. He was known for his own type of flamboyance and bright personality. Hopefully, I wouldn't be as annoyed with him as I was with a certain Frenchman. Taking my normal seat in the back, I began to look at the different posters and books that the room had to offer. It seemed interesting enough; at least there were a few new books I could read.

Class had just gotten started when the one person I thought I would avoid strode in. He apologized for his being late and of course was graciously welcomed. I sighed and slid down in my chair. He turned to smile at me. Me of all people. Part of me actually wanted to smile back. How ridiculous, I couldn't be letting myself be tricked into believing he cared. No one did. Mr. Vargas began the same ramble as every other teacher on the first day and I tried to pay at least a little attention. His Italian accent rang through the room of students who were then feeling the effects of waking up early for the first time in three months. As soon as the class was over, the rest of the day flew by and out of my hands, and before I could stop it the final bell rang. I tensed up immediately. It was time.

Slowly, I rose from my chair in phycology and my numb legs carried me out the main doors. I could feel my heart pounding as I followed the old sidewalk down to the street of run down houses where I resided. It was the poorest part of the surrounding neighborhood so even if anyone did hear, they probably wouldn't care. There was a time limit. If I was even ten minutes late, it would be much worse. The already short walk became shorter and shorter until I found myself on the front steps. I stared at the chipped paint on the old, dented, dark blue door and the siding that was falling off of that small house. Here I was. Taking the deepest breath I could manage, I stepped inside. Instantly, the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke filled my nostrils. I scanned the filthy front room that was full of broken furniture and glass. Before it was too late, I slipped upstairs to the bathroom that I considered my safe place. I had all of my clothes and valuables stored there, as well as all the house medicines and bandages. I set my bag there and stopped to stare at my reflection. It wouldn't be this nice by morning if I had one slip up.

Taking careful steps down the stairs, I moved into the kitchen to start dinner. Luckily for me, my father couldn't tell the difference between good food and my food, as I couldn't cook for the life of me. All that mattered is that I didn't make a mess and that it was waiting for him by the time he got home in approximately forty minutes. I stuck to frozen dinners, as that's what we could afford, and I began to preheat the oven. I then set the table and went about making everything spotless from last night. Everything was mostly going smoothly as the dinner that I didn't even really look at was set in the oven. I could only wait now. I was used to this nervousness that surrounded me everywhere. My stomach was in knots, I was sweating, and my heart felt like it could burst from my chest. This was my normal.

It wasn't long at all before he stepped through the door. His boots sounded against the hard floor and I tried not to make a sound. Right as I set his dinner on the table I felt his presence in the kitchen. Looking towards the floor, I backed away, letting my captor sit in his normal chair to eat. I could only wait until he was finished before cleaning his plate and hoping he wouldn't get too drunk. I could smell the alcohol on him when he came in so I assumed he had already had his fair share. His fork clanked against the plate over and over until finally it was set down in the normal rough manner. Being the good prisoner I was I hurried to clear the table, working to be absolutely silent, and not a nuisance. He wouldn't be as likely to notice me if I didn't make a sound. I tried so hard and things were going so well, but I wasn't expecting him to screech the chair across the kitchen floor. I jumped enough to drop the plate loudly into the sink. Swearing to myself silently, I heard him pause. Several terrifying moments passed as I felt his eyes staring at the back of my head. It was coming I knew it. He grumbled a few words that I was sure were insults and moved to open the fridge, pulling out one of the many beers that were stocked in our refrigerator. Those were the only things he would ever buy for himself.

I didn't get hit immediately. I was able to finish cleaning up before he threw his then empty bottle across the room to where it shattered only feet from me. I knew it would be worse if I ran. He began screaming obscenities at me and called me the names that were pounded into my head until I believed them. Worthless, filthy, damned. The calloused hand found itself in the back of my hair and I was dragged back and hit in the face hard. He began his usual rant of how it was my fault everything was the way it was. Mother would still be here if it weren't for me. The family would be happy if it weren't for me. I was the problem. A blow to the stomach. If I didn't exist none of this would have happened. We would be rich. All because of me.

I was curled up on the floor, taking blow after blow. I just closed my eyes. Perhaps it would go faster this way. I tried to think of happier things, like England, warm tea on rainy days, happy (though there were few) memories of the past. I grew numb to his beatings. Even when his belt was taken from his pants and my face became covered in my own blood I tried to go away. At least in my mind I would be able to have serenity. Tears streamed down my face and blurred my vision. It would be over soon, I kept telling myself. He would be tired soon. It didn't come soon enough. By the time he was finished with me, I had a bloody nose, split lip, and several other welts and bruises that I would have to work to hide for tomorrow, if I managed to go at all. This was the unlucky life I was given. I heard him trudge up the stairs and a door slam, leaving me to pick myself up. My weak, shaking limps pushed me off the floor and I tried to calm myself down. The pain was slowly coming back to be now. Sniffling, I used the wall to stand myself up. Half crawling and half walking I slowly managed to make it up the stairs to my bathroom.

Barricading the door, I turned to look at myself in the mirror. I supposed it could have been worse. Taking one of the dirty rags I washed the blood off of my face to get a clear view of what I would have to cover up. It wasn't a huge deal, who would notice anyway? I began the long process of slowly stripping down to observe my battered body and try to clean my unlucky self. I was blind to the ribs that could be seen. Blind to the fact that I had old scars and cuts everywhere. This was what I had always looked like, never knowing anything different. I deserved to look like this, a hideous abomination, someone who was never to be loved or cared for. Someone who was nothing. Someone like me.

**So this is the first chapter. Sorry if it jumps around or goes to fast, but this will be a long fic going well beyond the high school years. **

**Translations:**

**Lapin-Rabbit**

**Review if you wish. **


	2. Chapter 2

**As stated in the last chapter, this chapter will be a bit of a time jump forward. I may go back later after the entire story is finished and add something between these two, but as of now the first chapter will act as a prologue.**

**I still don't own Hetalia. **

_Chapter 2:_

_The Day Things Began_

On the day things began the first month and a half of school had flown by fairly uneventfully, on my standards at least. I was able to keep up my school work in the dirty bathroom I called my living space and I hadn't caused my father too many reasons to try and kill me. It was at this time that our first projects were starting and autumn was in full swing. I was preparing to do the brunt of the work, only to meet up ten minutes before the presentation and put everything together with the annoying person I was put with. However on this day, things went differently than they normally did. I knew I shouldn't have gotten off my bathroom floor.

The night before would have been horrific to anyone who wasn't me. I wasn't quite sure what I had done, but by the end of the night I found myself in the corner of my father's room, with no dignity or energy left in my small body. I could vaguely remember getting to the tub and trying to clean myself of _him_ at least a little before falling asleep on the cool, chipped tile that seemed so inviting. This morning, I ached all over, but was more worried about what I saw when I looked into the mirror. There was a fine cut going across my cheek, surrounded by black and blue. It screamed at me as I tried to find something to hide it with. It was the largest mark I had at that point. I could hear the monster sleeping in his room, so I knew he wouldn't be going into work today. That ruled out my first option of staying here and recovering. I would rather have the whole school know about this than stay home with this man for a full day, as he worked on weekends as well. Those were the only times I could be someone relaxed at home. Luckily for me, most of my clothes were baggy and long so most of my marks would be hidden. As for my face, I began working on an excuse that everyone was supposed to believe. _Supposed_ to.

I managed to find a dark green hoodie that could hide the awful thing and quickly slipped out of the house into the sharp cool air. I watched the dark sky as I walked the four blocks with one left turn down to the old brick building. I took awkward steps to avoid the pain I always felt after those unspeakable actions. Wind blew and howled as if it was angry, sending chills down everyone's spines as it ranted and raved and swirled all around. How I wish I could do that. No one noticed me as I walked in as usual, and I hurried to get to my first class, despite my condition. I wanted to get this over with, knowing the frog was in this period. Unfortunately, I didn't realize how close I was to being late; everyone was already in their seats by the time I arrived, and it was more interesting to look at someone coming in than the assignments on the board. I bowed my head and shuffled to my seat, avoiding anyone or anything until I felt a pair of annoying eyes on me. I tried my hardest to ignore them, but even when the teacher began her lesson, I felt them watching me. Why? Why did he have to stare at me all the damn time? I shouldn't be looked at. The entire period was consumed by my wandering thoughts and I only paid the slightest ounce of attention when I heard the words:

"The next partner pair will be Bonnefoy and Kirkland."

My head shot up, and looked around for an explanation. What? My eyes finally took the time to read the board and my heart sunk. How wonderful, a project with the frog. It looked rather extensive as well. Shit. I could almost feel the other's smirk. The bell sounded through the class room, and I planned to bolt before he could get a word in. That plan didn't go as well as I had hoped when I bent to get my bag and was hit by a wave of pain. My hand gripped the table as I waited to gain my composure before standing. After was seemed like minutes, while only a few seconds, I reached down for that bloody back but only felt air. I moved my hand all around until I heard the soft thump of it being set on the table. My eyes followed the sound until I saw a perfectly manicured hand releasing the straps and proceeding to set my books into the main pocket. I heard light humming and met the face of my new partner, who was _still_ watching me.

"You seem a little under the weather, _Lapin_, are you alright?" his tone was meant to be teasing, but there was something in his eyes that seemed off. It was that same look he sometimes had after studying me for moments at a time. Worry perhaps? Unlikely.

"As if I would tell you, git!" I heard myself saying before I could stop myself. But a part of me did want to tell him. Part of me wanted someone to know, someone who would help me. But that person would never be Francis, right? He would laugh. I knew he would.

I grabbed my bag from his hands and went as quickly as I could manage out the door and into the hallway traffic. I couldn't do this. Not today. I had to find some peace. I was so tired, and my body ached. Thoughts swirled through my mind like a hurricane, driving me mad. Each step felt like a thousand. As the students all found their respective class rooms, I managed to find an isolated corner in a small hallway. Sinking down to the floor, I let my muscles relax at least a little bit. How pathetic I was. My eyes were heavy as I tried to stay awake. I only needed a few minutes to rest I told myself. Then I could go back to class. My body had other ideas. I was too done to move. My consciousness was slipping away, and I moved to get a bit more comfortable. It was unlikely that anyone would look for me anyway. Why not take a small nap. My eyes finally fluttered closed, and my world was consumed in black until I was in a deep abyss of slumber.

"Arthur…Arthur! Arthur God dammit, wake up!"

This voice was so familiar yet so far away from me as I fought to stay asleep. A pair of hands were then on my shoulder and I felt myself being pulled out of my peaceful state. Why now? Light filled my vision as I allowed my eyes to flutter open. I was instantly met with a shade of blue that I had seen so many times before. How lovely… they really were, and peaceful-

"Arthur!"

I was snapped out of my sense and everything came into sharp focus. There was an odd silence that was not what one usually heard when school was in session. Was I home? I sat up slowly, being painfully reminded how poorly off I was. My mind slowly registered the person in front of me. Blonde hair tied messily back, an annoying accent, and those eyes. Francis? What was he doing here? I looked and saw the hallway we were in. Ah, still in school. He was bent over in front of my curled up position, with two hands on my shoulders, and he peered into my eyes intensely, as if trying to read everything about me.

"What is it?" I mumbled, trying to remain cold as ever.

His eyes seemed to get even more concerned and I grew confused. What could he possibly be up too now? He shifted, never letting go of my shoulders, and sat on his knees, and I was surprised he'd let anything other than his shoed feet touch such a dirty floor.

"You idiot, you slept through the day! No one knew where you were… I've been looking for you for the last half hour!"

I didn't process the words right away. The whole day? I missed everything? I could slap myself. My mind exploded into action of trying to figure out what time it was, where I needed to be, and most importantly, if he had realized yet. I shot up into a full sitting position, intent on standing, but I was held in place. I then remembered that there was indeed another person there with me. He said he had been looking for a half hour…why?

"What time is it?" My voice sounded too rushed and concerned. He would be suspicious; I needed to pull it together.

"Almost three…" he whispered. My heart sunk.

"Three?!" I shrieked, moving to push out of his grip to stand up. I was an hour past curfew. A full sixty minutes.

I couldn't listen to his snarky comments. I had to go. I stumbled as I began to move out of the corner once again forgetting how weak I was. I had never seen such a serious look on the Frog's face as he watched my pathetic display. I had to stop moving so much, or else I would be in to poor of a shape to handle tonight's punishments that would definitely come. My thoughts hit me like a wall and I almost whimpered. I looked around for my bag until a felt a hand on my shoulder, turning me and placing my belongings in my hand.

"Oui, three…" he began slowly, studying my face, causing me to shrink down. I was sure he thought I was disgusting. "Is there something wrong? You can tell me…" his voice was so soft and almost inviting. I couldn't though. He would laugh I knew it.

"It's nothing!" I said quickly, trying to move past me. I wasn't expecting him to grab my wrist. I don't know what came over me after that. I heard myself cry out and cower. Why was I acting this way? I couldn't have made a worse mistake. As quickly as he had touched me, he let go, seemingly startled by my outburst. I could only look the other way. Maybe he wouldn't think anything of it-

"Arthur…what is this?" I felt a hand on my cheek, causing me to instinctively flinch. His touch was smooth and delicate, nothing like I had ever experienced at home. For a moment I forgot what he was referring too, still getting over the shock of what happened a few moments before, until he brushed his thumb over the cut that was there, and a stinging sensation hit me.

"O-Oh that?" I heard myself stutter. "That's nothing! I bumped myself a few days ago on my locker is all-"

"You did not have this a few days ago, Arthur." His voice was sharper than I had ever heard it before. "…Is there someone that is hurting you?" I could feel his voice waver slightly at the idea.

_Yes. _"No, of course not!" I tried to sound like my irritated self, but I was so tired. Francis didn't look convinced in the slightest, but as he opened his mouth to continue prying into something I deserved I made my move to cut him off.

"Really it was my fault, I was being stupid, I'm like that sometimes, and I just bumped it, Im fine." I was rambling on and on, but I had to get out before father came here himself. I was able to gather myself enough to pull away and I pulled my bag over my shoulders. "I-I'll see you tomorrow or whatever, I just really need to go!" I yelled lightly before turning to leave.

"Wait!" His voice called. I couldn't bring myself to keep walking. And so I turned to meet those concerned blue eyes of his. "When should we do this project…?" He even sounded upset, but seemed to know I wouldn't talk about this anymore. Why did he care though?

"I can just do it if you want-"

"Don't be stupid. I always do my share." This was all so new. Never had anyone actually wanted to do something to help. I felt him come closer, as I must have looked surprised.

"How about my house tomorrow afternoon?" I could only nod. Anything to get him to leave and for me to get home faster.

He seemed to accept my response and I watched him walk away. I stood there dumbfounded. I had just said yes to going to his house after school. I couldn't do that! Why had I said yes? I would normally have given a cold response or something similar. This was too much. I could feel myself slipping down into a panicked state. I didn't want to go. I would never be allowed, especially after today, but another part of me was overjoyed that I would go somewhere nicer. Moving my feet as quickly as I could I ran home, only stopping a few times when the pain was too intense. The wind was chilled and howling again, causing my hands and ears to throb. It was almost three thirty by the time I made it to those cracked front steps.

The door was cracked open and my heart started pounding. The old hinges creaked as I pushed it open more and slow steps propelled me into the dark room. I scanned the room before moving in further, looking for him. That's when the door suddenly closed. My heard clenched. I heard the footsteps approaching and tears threatened to blur my vision. A hand touched my shoulder. The fear began coursing through my veins, and I wanted to escape. I wanted out so badly. Why did this have to be me? Why was I the one that was about to suffer more pain? I felt that same hand slide down my side in such a disgusting way. It was rough, preparing to re-mark me. The gruff voice came with a soft harsh tone and I couldn't dare look at him.

"Where have you been, Arthur?"

A Single tear rolled down my cheek.

**Updates will come soon, and I'm actually starting on the third chapter now; I just wanted to post this before I forgot. R&R. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry this update has taken longer than normal; I became extremely busy with school and suffered major headaches due to the weather and all the wonderful things that go along with stress. I want to give a huge thank you for all those who favorite and followed this story! And a special shout out to CrossingTheBoundary for our first review! It means so much! Anyway, I hope you enjoy. WARNING: There is abuse and rape in this chapter**

**I still don't own Hetalia :/  
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_Chapter 3:_

_Decisions_

"Where have you been, Arthur?"

I stood stock still, not knowing if I should run or suffer, which would be worse I wonder?

_Slap._

"I won't ask twice!"

"I…" I began racking my brain for an excuse, more tears threatening to roll down by the minute, "I had to help someone at school I tried to call-"

"Lies!"

I began to tremble, my body going numb.

"What could possibly have taken so long that it couldn't be done during regular school hours?!"

I was shoved roughly to the side, slamming my shoulder against the door of the front hall closet. My attempts to stammer out futile responses were met with another, harder, slap that caused intense stinging to the cut that was already there. I tensed up, preparing for what more was to come, already hearing him tell me that I knew what the rules were. How insolent I was, such an awful despicable child who deserved the punishment I was receiving. How could I not believe him? How, after years of this, could I believe anything different? I felt more stinging as my tears ran down over the cut that was bound to reopen. I was grabbed roughly by the arm and thrown into the kitchen. Skidding to the floor, I heard the hard 'smack' of my head hitting the floor before I felt it. How I hoped it was just a bad bruise. He left me there, knowing that I didn't have the energy or the courage to get up, relishing in the power he had over me. I heard the all too familiar sound of the opening of a bottle and I slumped fully to the ground in defeat.

It seemed like hours before I was touched again. The hand wrapped around my hair and I was dragged out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. _No. _I knew what was coming now. I began to struggle as much as I could in my condition. I always did at this point. He was always too strong. I felt myself be pulled up over the top stair. I could feel my consciousness slipping slowly as I saw the approaching doorframe. I hated that doorframe it was all I ever saw when I was dragged to the worst of places. The chipping wood, the faded white paint, I do not have any happy memories regarding it. I faintly felt my foot being caught on it as I was roughly dragged over the carpet. That was going to burn. My back hit the wall of _that _corner. Apparently I wasn't even worth the bed to him. I never have been. I whimpered, trying to cower into the corner, curling up so he couldn't get to me. How awful this existence was.

The familiar sound of pants hitting the floor, those rough hands yanking me down despite my constant struggles and cries, yet another smack, and I could do nothing to stop him. He took his pleasure with me as if I was nothing but a toy. I sobbed. Wailed even, trying desperately to make him stop. Please. _Please. _It was so rough, so painful. Those awful hands and that awful smell ravaging me, leaving me broken. As this happened, I tried as hard as I could to think of anything that would dull this pain. Of course, nothing could fully take me away from this all too real hell I lived in, but as I faded in and out my mind did focus in on one thing. Those eyes and that laugh that I found so utterly annoying, that frog filled my thoughts as I sobbed into the carpet, feeling my cut reopen. I imagined a world with him, without this pain, one where I would be taken care of and loved unconditionally. Why it was that blonde Frenchman I would never know, perhaps it was because he's the only one who showed me any form of kindness ever. I felt him finish, sending a shudder through me. I was slapped on the back roughly, before I felt him release me. I hadn't the strength to move as I simply continued to lie there, sobbing quietly.

The familiar sound of his shower hitting the tiles filled the room and I heard him humming. He was _humming. _I curled up more, feeling my jeans bunched around my ankles. Everything ached. I was dizzy and nauseous and it was minutes before I finally managed to sit up. The expectation was that I would be gone before he got out of his shower. I never really took in the surroundings of this room when he was done with me. I looked around, seeing how it was trashed with the filthy sheets and clothes strewn about. It was hideous. Everything about this was. I crawled slowly out of the room, barely making it out in the hall before lying by the only door, aside from the front, that I liked in this wretched house. The door I just came from slammed, causing me to jump. That was it. He was finished with me for the night.

It was at least another ten minutes before I moved into my sanctuary. Curling up on the floor, I wanted nothing more than to just fade away. Perhaps that would be better than this, to be nothing. I spent the rest of the evening simply lying there on those tiles for what seemed like the thousandth time in my eighteen years. I spent the rest of the night crying softly to myself in the cold reality that no one would hear me, and that they probably didn't care anyway. I let my thoughts drift back to Francis and wondered how I would go about tomorrow afternoon. I knew I had to get out of meeting him after school, but did I really want too? After these incidents occurred, I often wondered why I ever returned but I realized I had nowhere to go. No money, no cell phone, nothing. I still liked to hold onto the small sliver of hope that things would change for the better, though I learned long ago not to focus too much on such a silly dream.

I suddenly jolted awake at the sound of the front door slamming shut, announcing my father's departure. I shivered at my nakedness and sat up slowly, as my mind caught up with what had happened. I must have crashed. It was still dark so I figured it was quite early, as it always was when he left for his job in the factory down the road. I groaned softly, hating how badly it always hurt in these mornings. Feeling the overwhelming need to cleanse myself, I filled the small tub with the warmest water I could manage. If only I could just take a bath to relax instead of taking one to heal. I sunk down in the water and tried my best to scrub away the filth I felt covered me, though I knew it was futile. I felt disgusting in my own skin.

It was more difficult than I expected to stand and get dressed. I wondered how obvious it would be. He had done this to me for two nights in a row before, but it was rougher for some reason, and I was in more pain than normal. I didn't like to think about the possible injuries that could be serious, as I would have no way to fix them. I looked at my face once more. I certainly was a sight with the dark circles under my eyes and that cut that looked even worse than yesterday. I tried cleaning myself up as much as I could, working to appear normal, as so a certain Frenchman wouldn't ask so many questions that I wasn't ready to answer.

I slowly exited my safe place and shuffled down the stairs, only able to manage one stair at a time. I briefly pondered how long I could go on before I was seriously injured and couldn't even make it down these stairs, what would I do then? My stomach tightened at the thought. I found my school bag thrown against the opposite corner of the living room, and I hoped nothing was too damaged. Slowly sinking down to my knees (which required more effort than should be necessary) I managed to pick it up and looked at the clock that had miraculously survived the constant damage this old place saw. If I wanted to make it on time in this condition I needed to get going.

I never thought the walk from my house to school was so far until I had a limp this badly. At first, I was making good time with my aching limbs and battered frame, but as the wind picked up and rain started to fall a normal few block walk felt like a marathon. As much as I hated mornings, I was happy to be out of my cage. I shuffled along as quickly as I could; only stopping once to lean against a tree to catch my breath. By the time I made it into class, the other students were filling in as well and I relaxed, knowing that I wasn't late. I was trying to get some of the work I was supposed to do the night before finished, afraid of the repercussions of failure when my new _partner _came in, smiling and being loud as always. Bloody brilliant. He smirked at me, seeming to be back to normal, and plopped down rather dramatically.

"I never took you as lazy." He said, taking what I was working on to examine it.

Annoyance coursed through me and if I wasn't only just able to walk I would have tackled the idiot. "No one could ever be as lazy as you. Now, you insufferable git, give that here!" I shouted as I tried to grab it from him.

"Well at least _I_ got my homework finished!" he laughed his annoying French laugh before placing the paper back on my desk, looking much to satisfied with himself.

I was too tired to actually think of something to say so I just scowled and looked the other way. I would get him back later. My mind went back to what had happened yesterday afternoon and I wondered if he still remembered and was still so worried. Probably not, based off of how he was acting now. I didn't want to believe that (not that I would ever admit it) but I couldn't let myself get caught up in the hope that someone might actually care. The disappointment would kill me. I then took the time to look over what this project was supposed to be about and how involved it would actually be. It wasn't too complex, but required work that had to be done outside of class. Perfect. The poor lady teaching our class began to drone on about the day's lesson and I tried my best to pay attention while multitasking on other work. I sighed, already irritated with the day. She gave us time to work with our partners after she realized that we weren't paying attention and I saw her slump down in her chair, obviously just as irritated as I was. Francis turned to me, as if he was expecting me to actually make an effort and say something. I glared at him until he grew impatient.

"You seem to be a ray of sunshine today, lapin." He murmured, taking the time to check his phone and run his fingers through his tied up hair.

I huffed and opened my notes, deciding to attempt to try to do something. "Shut up, frog, not everyone is as annoyingly happy as you are."

I saw him frown briefly, but as soon as it was there it was gone and he let out a long sigh. "Being happy isn't a bad thing, Arthur."

Choosing to ignore that statement, I didn't respond and stayed quietly figuring out what exactly we were going to do. He looked around, unsure of what to do with himself now that it was silent between us. I smirked softly, realizing I was probably one of the only people that could irritate him this way, and it was one of the few satisfactions of my life. Throughout the period we silently pondered on what to do, without speaking many words to each other until the annoying shrill of the bell sounded.

"Don't forget to meet me after school; I know you're dying to spend more time with me." He said laughing to himself.

I had almost forgotten.

I didn't pay much attention to the rest of the day that seemed to be flying by aside from English class. I didn't know what exactly to make of this teacher. Mr. Vargas was like another Francis, just less annoying. He appeared ditzy and lazy but if you listened to what he had to say he was actually quite intelligent. Today, he was going over one of the Shakespearean plays I had already read twice. I didn't normally have favorite teachers but he definitely knew what he was talking about, making him higher up on my list of preferred people. He did have his annoying flamboyant moments but overall he was one of the people I enjoyed to be around. He and I had talked on a few occasions, but as I never really talked to anyone, our conversations were few and far between.

"I think we can take the rest of the period off, don't you?" I suddenly heard.

I saw the other students exchange exited remarks before shutting their books, and for once, Francis didn't try and pester me. I sighed, rather disappointed, and continued looking over what he was just going on about. I had gone off into my own little world, relishing in the joys of English literature. I didn't notice the footsteps approaching my desk.

"What did you do to your cheek, Arthur?"

I was so caught off guard by the question that I jumped and stared at him blankly. What?

"Arthur?"

I realized I had been staring at Mr. Vargas for quite some time and snapped into action, trying to find an acceptable excuse that he wouldn't question.

"Oh I…got caught in my fence and fell…cutting it in the process." My voice sounded questioning in itself, and I mentally slapped myself for not being as convincing as I should have been.

Before he had a chance to respond, the bell rang and everyone began shuffling about at once. While he called out reminders to the class, I was able to slip out unnoticed. Why had he asked? I was so surprised that someone other than that frog had actually done so that I ran into several people, receiving the normal irritated remarks and curses. This incident consumed my thoughts for the rest of the day as it was the first of its kind. Whenever I had marks on my face, no one cared to notice or if they did they didn't bother to say anything. Now two people had asked about the bloody cut and I didn't know what to think. This was so new. Before I could ponder it further the final bell rang. Was the day already over? It was time to decide, run or take a risk. I took a deep breath and pushed out of my chair. Maybe he wouldn't even be there and only said he'd help just because he wanted to look good? My feet carried me slowly out the front doors and for some odd reason a sense of disappointment hit me when I saw he wasn't there.

I knew it was too good to be true. Who would ever want to work on something with me when they didn't have to? With a sigh I turned, intent on walking home and waiting for the monster to return once again, maybe tonight wouldn't be as bad as the last two had been. I had made it almost fifty feet when I heard running footsteps. I tried to convince myself that it wouldn't be him and kept waking.

"Arthur!"

I stopped. Turning to look, I saw none other than the Frenchie himself running towards me. I thought for a moment that he was going to run me over, but he managed to stop right before we would have collided. For some odd reason I was relieved.

"You really didn't think I would leave without you?" he asked, slightly breathless.

I was still getting over the shock of something actually going to plan that I didn't respond. He panted for a few moments, and I could see his breath in the air. He then smiled and patted my shoulder. His hand was much gentler than it should have been.

"What are you standing around for? Come on, _Cher_"

I slowly moved to walk with him, not knowing where I was going or what exactly I was doing. I guessed that he didn't live far; otherwise we would have caught a bus or gone to his car or something. He hummed lightly and seemed overly happy for some reason. I sighed and slowly trudged along, noticing how close we were to my own street. I stared down the street where I would have turned on any normal day and grew nervous. What was I doing? I would be killed for this. Why was I so willingly going with this boy who I only knew from school? I slowed my pace, consumed by these thoughts. Francis didn't try and engage in any sort of conversation, which surprised me. He just continued humming a song that was undeniably French.

I then found myself at the foot of steps that weren't cracked, and face to face with a door that was brightly painted red and looked brand new on my standards. His house didn't have siding falling off of it or rust on the old water pipes. His house had fresh paint, bright shudders, and the soft glow of lamp light shining through the windows. His house was warm. His house seemed welcoming. Francis moved to open the door and I was met with soft beige colored walls that didn't have holes in them, with rooms that were spacious and clean, almost pristine. Furniture was stylishly arranged and everything about his house seemed loving. I heard him exclaim in French and slowly shuffled behind him into the kitchen where I was met with the sight of him embracing an older woman and kissing her cheeks. My heart clenched.

"Aunt Bella, this is Arthur, from school," he said with a soft smile, "We're working on a project together."

The lady who he called aunt smiled at me and welcomed me in such a loving way that I could only stare. I finally managed the smallest of smiles and Francis' eyes shone brightly. He seemed so different here. At school, he was the arrogant overly bright frog that lived to annoy me. Here, he seemed so loving and soft. Who was he and what had he done with Francis? He led me up the stairs and into what I assumed would be his bedroom. It was just as one would expect, with unique and artsy things mixed with modern fixtures. He had his own easel set up by the one large window in the room and had many different paintings lying about, with a small couch and a bed that looked so soft in the center of the room. He took no time in sitting down on it and opening his bag. I didn't know what to think as I just stood awkwardly, waiting for instructions.

"What are you doing? Come sit!" He said with that same gentle, happy tone that he used with his aunt.

I took slow steps forward until I found myself seated on the bed beside him. I couldn't remember the last time I had done this. He had his book and notes sprawled out over the soft blue sheets and moved to lay on his stomach, chewing slightly on his pen cap, appearing deep in thought. I copied his actions but was nowhere near comfortable enough to move from where I was on the very edge of the bed. He began discussing the different ideas and elements of the project and I could only listen, becoming overwhelmed by it all. I let him talk, replying with sounds of agreement every so often. I kept watching the clock, not taking my eyes off of it after it passed the time when I was supposed to have dinner ready, moving to when father got home. He would be so angry.

"Arthur…?"

That was the second time that day someone had said my name because I was too wrapped up in my emotions to say anything. Damn, I was losing it. I saw his sharp eyes staring into mine with that same concerned look he always had.

"We can take a break if you want…" he said quietly, sitting up, "I'm sure you were bored, right?" he chuckled softly, in an obvious attempt to make the situation less awkward.

"Not really… but we can take a break…" I heard myself murmur, causing him to smile slightly. He was so quiet and relaxed. So different from when we were in school. I let out a breath that I must have been holding in for what seemed like hours.

Francis had taken his hair down sometime during the few hours that we had worked, and it was one of the first times I saw how long it was. He always had it up in that ponytail. It was slightly disheveled, and for some reason it brought a soft smile to my face. Francis looked like he was about to say something when the door opened slightly. I was met with a small girl with large eyes and long brown hair that was put loosely in a braid over her shoulder. Francis smiled brightly and went over to greet her in that same gentle way that was so odd to me. I assumed she was his sister, and she was soon joined by another girl, one who had darker hair in two pigtails with a darker skin tone than the rest of them. He greeted her with just as much enthusiasm and I couldn't stop a slightly bigger smile from reaching my face.

"Aunt Bella says it is time for dinner…" I heard the one with the pigtails say cheerfully, with a thick accent. She then turned and looked at me with questioning eyes. "Who is that?"

Francis chuckled briefly, "This is Arthur. Arthur, this is Camille and Michelle, mes sœurs." I managed a small wave and they both giggled.

The two girls quickly ran off after a few more minutes of chatting with Francis to go do more interesting things and he slowly turned back to me and said, "I told them you were staying for dinner, if that's alright…"

I could only nod, not quite knowing what was expected of me. He moved to go down the stairs leaving me to trail behind as I slowly moved down the short flight of stairs. The pain was still quite prominent, but I tried to keep as straight of a face as I could. When we made it into the kitchen I found his entire family seated at the table, waiting to be served. I relied heavily on Francis' lead and followed him to a seat at the table. They were all murmuring to each other happily in French, in which I didn't understand a word. Eventually we were served dinner, which was extremely French as well, although I wasn't in a position to show my distaste. I ate slowly, but gratefully, not having eaten a meal such as this in god knows when.

I was silent throughout dinner, not really knowing what to say, aside from a few short comments to Francis and back. I heard his aunt give him instructions in more French as I went to gather my things after we had all eaten our fill. I was terrified. I felt like I could lose what I had just eaten. I didn't want to leave such a warm environment and go back to such a cold one. Francis approached me and smiled gently.

"I was told to walk you home…unless you have a ride or something."

I could only shake my head as we headed out into the cool autumn air. It was a little passed 6:30 in the evening as we started the approximately ten minute walk back. I shivered as the air hit my small torso. My jacket was stuffed away in one of those drawers in the bathroom, and I didn't think to grab it when I left. I felt his eyes on me before feeling a warm sensation come over my shoulders.

"I'm surprised a genius like you would actually forget a jacket in weather like this," he teased.

His jacket was larger than mine and I was enveloped in warmth that was so foreign, yet so nice. I felt my cheeks heating up and I managed to give a halfhearted scowl. As we walked, I stayed quiet, the fear eating me away. I had never done something like this. The closer we got the less I wanted to go back. I could stay out for one night, I could I knew it, but did I have the courage? Francis must have taken notice of this as he stopped walking and gently grabbed my arm. When did he get so good at reading emotions?

"Are you sure you're alright, Lapin? You seem off…"

"I…Im fine! Just cold. Don't concern yourself with it, Frog, and I'm not your 'lapin' or whatever!" was my immediate response.

He frowned at me but before he could open his mouth again I turned and continued walking. Soon, too soon, we got to the corner where I could turn onto my street. I didn't want Francis to see my house. He would laugh.

"I can go from here; it's only two houses down." That was a lie, it was actually four houses, but the second house always looked so nice.

He looked at me for what had to be a full minute before slowly accepting this. He bid me a good night, telling me to just give him his jacket on Monday. Monday? Was it already the end of the week? I must really be off. I started to protest, but he would have none of it. What was with him? I started to go down the street as if I was headed towards that nice second house. He turned and continued to walk back towards that lovely house of his, leaving me to face my own demise. I imagined what would have happened if I had asked him to stay. As I approached my own house I distinctly heard the sound of glass breaking from inside. I froze up. Did I really have to go back in there? Could I just not come home? Something told me not too. I stood staring up at the only place I had ever known and for the first time pondered my options. I took a deep breath as I hesitantly made up my mind. Slowly, on shaky feet, I moved to pass that house and continue walking down the street.

**There is chapter three! The next chapter will come soon, sometime next week for sure. **

**Translations:**

**mes sœurs- My sisters**

**Also, **

**Camille- Monaco**

**Michelle- Seychelles **

**Hope you enjoyed! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Update took a bit long since I was suffering the worst week ever. These next two chapters should come within a few days of each other. I just felt like I didn't need to go on with this particular scene in the same chapter. Thank you all so much for your support and the reviews I received made me very happy. Special shout out too Linn66 for the second review! Thanks so much.**

**Still don't own Hetalia, I'm not worthy.**

**Same warnings apply throughout entire fic. No actual abuse in this chapter just dark, suicidal thoughts and ideas. **

_Chapter 4:_

_Gone?_

I had positively no idea what I was doing. It was dark, cold, and I was in no condition to be roaming around with crazy plans of not going back. I don't know what came over me to just continue walking but I was and now found myself headed towards the other side of the neighborhood where I knew a small park was. My mind was arguing with itself, one moment wanting to go back to suffer the consequences now before they got worse, and then another telling me to go onward. What I was going to do was also another matter entirely. I had no phone, no clothes, no money, no food, or anything else to get me very far. I only had that blasted frog's coat that hung over my shoulders. I thought of Francis who was probably quickly making his way back to that warm and lovely house of his. I laughed bitterly at the thought of the useless wish that I could do the same.

As I walked along the cracked sidewalk, I looked at the other houses that had bright lights and curtains drawn, showing happy lives or ordinary situations. I saw a couple watching some program on the television, a young boy picking at his dinner that he took for granted, and an old woman knitting what looked to be a scarf. I wanted my own living room lights to shine brightly, and to be able to take for granted warm dinners and freedom to watch television and have friends that were free to come and go as they pleased. How miserable my existence was indeed. I wondered then how the weekend would unfold. Francis' words of '_See you Monday'_ rang in my ears and I sighed softly. I debated on going back for the millionth time. It wouldn't be as bad as if I came back Monday night, right? But could my body take another set of punches, kicks, that awful _penetration? _I shivered at the thought of those unspeakable nights and those memories kept me walking towards the park and not towards that house.

Soft lighting from the street lamps illuminated the said park I found myself in enough so that I wasn't completely blind. I sat on an old bench, taking in the surroundings of where I lived. I never walked this far ever except when I went to get the basic food that my father lived off of. I realized how quaint the neighborhood really was and it was just my house that seemed like hell itself created its own special embassy to the human world. Fatigue loomed over my consciousness and I moved to get comfortable, no longer caring or worrying that someone would come along and do me harm. There wasn't anything they could do that was worse than what I suffered, right? And besides, no one would bother someone like me, someone who was nothing but dirt under everyone else's shoe. I curled up under Francis' jacket the best I could, but still sleep did not find me immediately. I had gotten more sleep than usual over the past few days, which had been quite different and inconsistent with my normal schedule.

I wondered what _he_ was doing right now. If he had even noticed I was gone. I pictured him sitting at our deteriorating kitchen table drinking beer after beer, expecting me to be there to clean up his mess. When I wouldn't clear the table he would take the energy to look around, and after noticing that I was indeed not there he may actually attempt to call me by one of the common vulgar names that were given to me if he was in the right mood. Depending on just how drunk he was I could see him getting up and looking for me, thinking I was hiding. He would pound on my bathroom door, screaming threats and obscenities. He may dig around a few moments more, perhaps longer if he really felt the urge to violate me. But mostly, I was sure he'd just give up and go back to drinking and overall living his simple yet so very horrid excuse of a life. I shivered at the thought of him trying to once again find me, being convinced that I was hiding and wouldn't come out just to piss him off.

I felt a prick of tears and jumped at my own actions. I never cried outside of when he hurt me. It was all a stone exterior to the public. No one could see me weak or they would hurt me too. Nevertheless, my body worked against me and I felt those traitors stream down my cheeks. I felt so helpless, so alone. What was going to happen on Monday? I sniffed, furiously wiping my eyes to preserve at least some dignity, even though I knew no one would be walking by to see. My heart clenched painfully in sorrow for my own situation and I immediately hated myself for it. I didn't like to 'wallow in self-pity' as they called it. I didn't deserve it or have the right too. Yet I found myself doing so more and more often nowadays. I stared at the houses across from me as they all began to darken, signaling that the people who lived inside were peacefully turning in for the night. I turned to stare up at the starless sky and pondered how sick I would get if it started to rain on me, as I had no real protection. It had drizzled on and off all day long, after all. The hours slid past as I let my thoughts take over and I was motionless, not wanting to do anything.

There were no interruptions or events that caught my attention until the early hours of the morning. The sky had just started to lighten and I could already tell the weather was to be worse than before. Perhaps I could take shelter in a store or public building? I heard the sound of happy chatter, causing my head to turn. Coming down the street, I saw_ Francis_ and his two friends who I vaguely remembered. Antonio and Gilbert had always been friends with Francis. Not wanting them to see me, I moved as quickly as I could and hid behind a larger tree several feet away. They wouldn't be pleased with my presence. I studied them as they came into the park and sat on the very bench where I had spent my sleepless night. I could hear them as they spoke to one another and was more interested than I should have been.

"So Francis, I heard you had to work with that one kid on your history project. His name's Arthur right?" I head the one I recognized as Gilbert say. He was from Germany (or Prussia as he claimed) and I only remembered him because of his intimidating younger brother. I tensed up.

"Oui, it certainly was an interesting afternoon yesterday when he was over, I've never seen anyone so…_awkward _or nervous, really." That bloody Frenchman replied. Something inside me started to ache, but I couldn't pinpoint it exactly.

"Lo siento, mi amigo, I know that must have been awkward for you. If I was his partner I wouldn't know what to do. He doesn't ever talk to anyone. Is he as weird as everyone says?" The Spanish one, Antonio said. I felt anger swell up inside me, preparing for the disappointment and sadness I would get from Francis' next response.

"He is really _odd_, mon ami," he replied casually, a soft smirk gracing his lips, "I don't think he'd ever done something such as that before. It was so sad. I can see why no one wants to be around him…He seemed to try hard to act appropriately."

Gilbert chimed in, "I feel so bad for you…he probably has this crazy stalker thing for you. "

"Si, you probably should have let him do everything and not given it much thought…"

Then Francis laughed. He _laughed _and nodded his head. The three started laughing together, and I had felt a pain I hadn't experienced much before. Of course I knew that many people found me odd and didn't want anything to do with me, and I had accepted that. But something about what Francis had acted hurt me. He was so gentle and kind when I had come to his house, and he made me feel safer and more secure than I had ever really been. Hearing him say that I was awkward and odd filled me with bitterness. I had actually for a moment thought he might have cared and that he understood me. I was stupid for letting him get close. I slid down slowly to the base of the tree and buried my face in my arms. Everything was wrong and falling apart. I didn't go back to the one place I knew, and if I went back now I'd surely be killed. The one person who I thought could be my friend thought I was odd and actually didn't seem to be interested in being close to me at all. He filled my head with ideas that ruined my life. The finality of all this hit me like a train. I wanted to scream.

Rain began to fall shortly after I heard those words, but I couldn't bring myself to move. I heard the curses and sighs of annoyance from Francis and his _real _friends and heard the sound of their footsteps fading off quickly. I didn't have a motivation anymore, not that there was much of one to begin with. I couldn't physically handle returning to my father, and the one place I would ever even remotely consider going to was dashed. I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone; I expected them to look at me and laugh, thinking me weak. I grew chilled and wet and vaguely had any concept of time as I sat, believing that I had given up. I could feel myself grow weaker and my head began to pound. Perhaps it would be better if I let myself go. Francis didn't care. Perhaps all his teasing really was full of hate. Father definitely didn't care. No one cared. Some poor bloke would probably just find me lying here and call someone to remove me. If I was sick enough by then, maybe there would be no hope. There would be no funeral, no recognition that it was indeed Arthur Kirkland who was found in this park. I would cease to exist. There was nothing left to do, right? If I had gone this far without happiness, then there surely wouldn't be much in store for me. I was a mistake.

I watched the rain drip from the leaves above me until they hit somewhere on my pale skin or on my clothes. I observed how the cold water would hit my jeans and bleed through, causing a deep chill to wash over me. I was sure that I was feverish by then, and wanting nothing more than to get everything over and done with. Perhaps if I just sat there in the cold and rain that my death would come quickly. And so I did. I only moved when I grew to terribly uncomfortable in my sitting position. I didn't want anyone to approach me, or offer to help. They were probably just acting on social obligation. It was dark before I knew it and the temperature plummeted. I would go faster this way. By the time it was light again, the rain had moved out and it was just cold, and I was barely awake. It was cold like my heart and everything about my life. It was bitter, and had no space for warmth or happiness. The coat Francis had let me borrow was now my pillow, as it was too wet to actually serve its purpose. I was lying in a small ball, not wanting to take up too much space. I had stopped shivering long ago, and was just numb. I watched the few birds that would fly ahead and imagined if I could fly. I would go back to England where things were better. I would fly as far away from here in one day as I could manage. I would be free.

I tried to focus on these thoughts. Surely it wouldn't be long now before I was actually free right? No longer bound to this earth that was full of such ridicule. I felt sleep slowly approaching and I wondered if I would wake up. Most people would think I was stupid and probably just did something stupid, not knowing that in my weak state I was so much more likely to get seriously ill. I felt the cold wind blow and heard the sound of cars driving by. I was content to lie on the damp grass and let nature run its course. Hopefully the person that found me wouldn't be too horrified, whether or not I was alive or gone. I finally decided that my eyes were simply too heavy and let them shut, planning to fade away. I was comfortable then to go as Arthur, the boy who always sat in the back of the room and never talked to anyone, the one who was weird and unimportant. I didn't know what my plan would be if I did wake up and wasn't too horribly off. The temperature dropped again. As I drifted off I hoped to be able to fly away. Alas, it should be known by now that I never get what I want.

**As I said, the next chapter is almost finished and will be posted shortly. It just didn't feel right to continue on. Antonio and Gilbert won't stay mean for long, I promise. Hope you enjoyed.**

**Translations:**

**Spanish:**

**Lo siento: I'm sorry**

**Mi amigo: my friend**

**Si: yes**

**French:**

**Mon ami: My friend**

**Oui: yes**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here is the next chapter. Thank you too WesternBird for their review!**

**Still don't own Hetalia, you all know that.**

_Chapter 5:_

_Mutual Confession _

When I realized that I wasn't lucky enough to be rid of this life that was just one big problem I was in a completely different situation. I didn't feel the cold wetness that I had taken a liking too, or the wind that reminded me of my emotions. No, instead, when my eyes opened I was met with a soft bright light. It wasn't too bright and sharp like the ones in the hospital were; it gave a more comforting, homely, feeling. I noticed that I wasn't on the hard ground, but wrapped in soft warmth. As I became more aware of my surroundings I recognized that I was in the only bedroom that I knew where I didn't have some memory of pain.

_Francis._

I suddenly smelled him everywhere. How I had gotten there was beyond me and I instantly became cautious. It wasn't his job to bring me here! My mind began reeling and I searched for any recollection of the events that I was missing. I felt so awful and was cursing the blasted idea of walking away from my fate in the first place. Why was I so stupid, letting crazy thoughts take over my actions? Trying to ignore the pounding in my head, I slowly sat up and looked around. It was so quiet. I hoped I would be able to sneak out without them noticing. I was so confused as to why someone like Francis would bother taking me in when I so willingly sat out in that weather. I guessed that he was told to do it or whatever.

Pushing off the mattress, I was able to stand and look around for my escape route. Perhaps they weren't home? My bare feet hit the clean but chilly wooden floor as I stepped out of his room and into the hall. As I drew nearer to the stairs I suddenly noticed the bathroom that was next to the frog's room. I felt my feet stop walking as I stared into the small space. It looked so clean. So _Francis. _I couldn't help myself. Part of me wanted to see what this room was supposed to look like. I stood in front of the sink, expecting to be met with various hair products and colognes, along with various other objects that gave him his so perfect complexion. Instead I saw something different.

Instead of hair gel there was a small brush and hair dryer. Instead of a dozen bottles of cologne there were several bottles of medication. And instead of makeup or other beauty products there was only a piece of paper taped very carefully to the perfect mirror. My head whirled with strange confusion. Surely all these weren't Francis'? Curiosity got the best of me and I took a look at that paper that was small and square, taped so elegantly in the corner of the glass. I recognized the swirly, yet neat combination of print and cursive.

_You are important._

_You are needed._

_You are loved._

_You are beautiful._

I felt myself frown. I thought back to the Frenchman who was always so flamboyant and happy. Why would Francis have something like this on his mirror? He didn't need to be reminded how liked he was. I suddenly became painfully aware of those yellow bottles sitting on the counter. One question after another rolled through my mind. My hand moved to grasp one of those bottles to read what they could possibly be, and for some reason hoping it wasn't for what I thought it was-

"I should have known you would have lied to me, _Lapin._"

With a loud clang the bottle fell onto the floor as I jumped with a start at that smooth, accented voice. Leaning against the doorway, looking more disheveled than I had ever seen him, was Francis. Guilt hit me like a train for snooping. He didn't look like the normal Francis that was flirtatious and teasing. His eyes were hard, and he wore a serious and tired expression. He stared at me like I had done something drastic. The tone he used, while soft, sent the nervousness that I always felt running through my veins. Part of me was expecting to be slapped.

"The lovely people who live two houses down your street were certainly surprised when I showed up with you in my aunt's car, telling them that their supposed son was found in a park unconscious. When they said they had absolutely no idea who you were I brought you here, since obviously I didn't know where else to go. Do you really not like me that much as to lie about where you live? It's not like I'm going to stalk you or something stupid like that!"

I could hear my blood pumping in my ears. He was angry with me. I felt my body tensing up. My eyes fixated on his own bare feet and stayed there. I was so used to submitting and giving up. He took a step towards me and I almost whimpered, my eyes squeezing shut automatically. Francis stood with his hand raised but he didn't hit me. I still didn't move. Long fingers were placed gently on my shoulder, but I felt myself flinch. I knew then he had at least noticed the response. I had to get back to my cold exterior. This was so new and uncomfortable. Convinced I was still to be punished, I didn't relax. It was silent and tense until his voice, much gentler that time, sounded once again.

"You should be in bed…"

Those fingers slid down my arm to take my hand. They hadn't roughly slid over me like my father's did; they seemed so light, with pure intentions. He led me back down the hall, in the opposite direction of the stairs that I had needed to get too. I looked back at them as he took me back through his doorway. Only looking into the room when I could no longer see my escape, I noticed the washcloths, pillows, and extra blankets that were set out. There looked to be medication that I guessed was meant for my sake on the side table. Why? He didn't look at me as he pulled the sheets back and gestured for me to get in. I hesitated.

"I'm not going to hurt you, you know," he began, "s'il vous plait, get some rest, you look awful."

"Why?" my voice cracked as I gave life to my question, causing me to wince.

His eyes met mine in a moment and we stared at each other for what seemed like ages. He let out a soft sigh and it was his turn to look at the floor.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is, but I wasn't about to let you freeze to death. You were so cold… I don't like to watch my friends suffer when I can do something about it."

I didn't know how to feel or what to say. Was he really my friend? Or was he just saying that so I wouldn't run away? The idea of Francis hurting me seemed fairly far-fetched but I didn't rule it out. I would never rule it out.

"You know, I really do think of you as a friend, despite what you may believe or hear."

It was as if he had seen right through me. How does he keep doing that? I managed to give him a halfhearted glare, not wanting him to see me so _vulnerable. _He just gave me a soft, sad smile. The first time I had seen such a look given to me. Momentarily forgetting that I was supposed to be out the door and walking down the cold street by now I felt my feet slowly move across the floor until I was sitting on the edge of the bed. He seemed more pleased than he was when he found me going through his personal belongings, and he waited until I was lying back down on his soft mattress. I thought for a moment that he would bring up what I had discovered; telling me it wasn't his but his sisters or someone else's. Francis couldn't possibly need that kind of medication…right?

I wasn't used to the constant asking if I was alright or someone giving me medication and forcing me to stay in a bed for a different reason than to be violated. I had hoped that Francis hadn't seen anything when I was carried in. I noticed then that he hadn't changed my clothes, apart from taking his jacket back and removing my old shoes and the few nonentities I managed to possess. Part of me was grateful. He didn't know, he didn't see. But another part of me wanted him to have changed my clothes. He would have seen, maybe he would have done something.

"Get some rest…I stopped by school earlier to get work for both of us…unless you want to go home or tell me where you really live, we can work on it after dinner. I'll wake you when it's time to eat, oui?" He murmured. I was confused.

"School?"

"It is Monday, _Cher…_"

I sighed and ran a hand over my face. I was so out of sorts I didn't even know what day it was. I had to get back on track and fast before secrets I didn't want others to know surfaced. I also realized that Francis must have skipped school if he looked as disheveled as he did.

"I know what you're going to ask. I stayed home because I had to sleep on the couch, as a certain someone was in _my_ bed, and woke up with the most awful crick in my neck. I was much too tired to deal in education."

I rolled my eyes, feeling that familiar annoyance that was gave me a strange sense of joy. He smirked lightly at me and ran a hand through his hair. After giving me another few words of lecture about my health, he finally turned and took his leave, letting me 'relax' in the silence. Thoughts swirled in my mind as I began to feel sore. I had almost forgotten that I was in poor physical condition. A certain deep ache set in, making it difficult to heed Francis' advice of sleep. I was still up in the air over whether or not I should trust this person who brought me into their home. I was all over the place and it was overwhelming.

I stared up at the odd patterns on the ceiling for what seemed like hours. I hated this. Wanting to be free but also not wanting to leave that painful familiarity. No one was there to tell me what to do, I wasn't that lucky. I thought of my father for the first time that day, wondering if he would actually kill me this time. I thought of school, where I faced another social hell but it was still safer than my cage. And I thought of Francis. I didn't know what to make of him, so I quickly moved on to the next topic. He didn't come in and check on me like I thought he would. The entire house was engulfed in a strange silence once again.

Eventually I did seem to drift off. I knew this because as soon as I did my head was full of memories. Vivid memories of _those_ actions I lived through. I saw the doorframe, the corner, the school bathrooms where I ate my lunch, and the park I spent the last few nights. Every time he was there, hurting me. This time, something was different. Francis was there as well. He wasn't the savior as one might expect in these stories, but instead he joined in too. He hurt me just like that man hurt me. He ridiculed me like the other students ridiculed me. He purposely tried to hurt me. I woke to the sensation of my own sobs.

Tears were dripping down my pale cheeks, reminding me of a still healing scratch, and onto the pillow. This was twice. I hated crying, it made me realize how weak I was. I was so terribly weak that I couldn't even hold my emotions in check like a normal person. My vision was blurred and it took so much self-control not to make a sound. One thing I would hate myself forever for would be crying in front of the frog. My hands furiously wiped at my eyes. How so much could have happened over the last few days was ridiculous, and it was so overwhelming. When the door suddenly opened, I had only just gotten myself to stop blubbering. I was sure my eyes were still red. I had turned away as soon as I heard the footsteps in. This time, there were two sets. My eyes closed quickly, thinking it better to pretend to sleep. The two talked in hushed French, making it impossible for me to understand.

"Pensez-vous qu'il est sans-abri?" (Do you think he is homeless?) The first voice, and older female, whispered. I guessed it was his aunt.

"Je ne sais pas. Il ne semble pas comme elle. Il n'a jamais parlé de sa maison." (I do not know. He doesn't seem like it. He has never talked of his home.) I recognized the second voice as Francis, and tried my best to pretend to be asleep.

"Eh bien, je me inquiète pour lui. Vous prendrez soin de lui se il a besoin, oui?" (Well I worry for him. You will take care of him if he needs it, yes?)

"Oui bien sûr, il est important pour moi." (Yes of course, he is important to me.)

I hadn't the slightest idea of what they were saying. I just hoped it wasn't too bad. I assumed it was time for dinner, but they didn't seem to want to wake me. Instead, a gentle hand was placed on my shoulder, and the blankets were pulled over me again. As the two exited the room, I turned to stare at the door. Perhaps I should go down and take my leave, thanking them for taking care of me? As I began debating my next actions, the footsteps returned and Francis returned in the doorway with a plate of food. He stopped upon seeing me awake, and looked rather surprised, an expression I hadn't seen on his face before.

"You're awake? I was going to sit up here with you while I ate…I can get you food if you want." He sounded so tired.

I shook my head, food being the last thing I wanted. I watched him sit on a chair that had been moved beside me and pick at the small plate of food on his lap. He wasn't going out of his way to make jibes at me and he didn't have that arrogant personality. He was quiet and gentle. If someone saw him like this they might think he was _shy. _He didn't get far on his food before setting it down and looking at me sternly.

"Arthur."

I could only stare back at him as I prepared for what I expected was to be a long lecture.

"I know there is something you aren't telling me. I can tell by the way you flinch whenever I get close to you, and you didn't fall and get that scratch. There's someone hurting you isn't there? Talk to me…"

I was backed into a corner. How was I to get out of this? I didn't know if I was ready to tell him. I thought of the only thing I could that could possibly distract him.

"W-Well what about you? What were those I found in the bathroom? Is there something you aren't telling _me?_"

I was expecting him to get angry and accuse me of snooping in places I shouldn't be. I thought he would yell at me for changing the subject. But instead, he remained quietly looking at me, seeming to be having an internal debate. I grew more curious as to what exactly it was that he was hiding. After what seemed like hours he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. He stared at me quizzically and whispered his response:

"I'll roll up my sleeve if you roll up yours."

**Here's chapter five. Next chapter will be up soon. Hope you enjoyed. If French translations aren't correct I apologize, I'm not fluent in the language unfortunately and had to look up a few things. Thanks for all those who read and favorited!**


	6. Chapter 6

**First, this should not have taken this long to update -.- I became extremely busy with school and projects and the holidays and everything was just bleh. Anyway, now I am on break and will update quickly. Special thanks to Linn66, SamBon and theSardonyx for reviewing! Here is the next chapter, I hope you all enjoy.**

**Still don't own Hetalia, never will.**

**Same warnings for the fic apply here, don't like, please don't read. **

_Chapter 6_

_Helpless _

Shock is a curious thing. Everything is seen, and everything is heard, yet one can't seem to correctly process what just occurred before them. Everything whirled through my mind all at once then stopped on a dime into sharp focus. I was met with the sharp eyes that were staring into mine, their purpose clear, intent on achieving their goal of getting all of my secrets out in the open. That Frenchman and I were seemingly frozen in time as I was suddenly presented with a new and terrifying array of choices. Two paths were forming in front of me and I now had to decide which I wanted to take.

"Do I need to go first?"

My attention snapped back down to the arm that was being held so carefully in front of me, the white sleeve of Francis' shirt that was still held closed by the buttons so carefully stitched into place. That arm stuck out sharply to me as I wondered what could possibly be under the fabric. Perhaps it was nothing and this was a trick? Francis was too _perfect_ to be hiding something. I couldn't find my voice now no matter how important it was. But he didn't grow impatient. He didn't start mocking me or pressuring me like I had expected him too. Instead, he kept his expression calm, ready to be the first to give in order to gain.

"How about this, I'll go first, and if you're ready then you can go, and if you need more time I'll wait…"

How was I supposed to respond to that? I could only observe him quietly. How had I not seen this side before? He was always so annoying with his teasing and romantic ideas. He took a deep breath before giving me the softest smile I had ever seen. While it was subtle, it drew me in to believe he was supposedly good. He would never admit it if I said anything I'm sure, but his fingers shook as they worked to undo those neat buttons and he stopped momentarily, seeming insecure in himself. He was still, and for a moment I thought he might give up. I was about to go back into my chaotic mind when he moved again. It was so sudden that it caused me to jump. His hand moved to push up his sleeve so slowly that the tension built up until I almost couldn't stand it.

His arm was paler than the rest of his body. As the fabric continued to recede up his arm I became aware of the only color on the skin. Faded red lines covered most of his upper arm, and I felt an odd sensation of relief when I realized that none (on that arm at least) were recent, but the crushing feeling of dread upon realizing what they were. The lines were a light pink of all different shapes and sizes. Confusion was the only word I could use to describe my mind. It was an overwhelmed, broken mass of chaotic confusion. Perfect Francis, always making friends, always laughing, smiling, and smirking, and over all seeming so happy having such marks on his otherwise flawless skin. It was several moments before I could muster the will to meet his eyes that were now glinted with a sadness that had the power to make even the coldest feel for him. I tried to form words, but no sound came out, only a cracked sound that projected how lost I truly was.

The Frenchman smiled sadly, "It really is a long story… I couldn't help it…in the orphanage no one ever wanted someone like -"

"What?" I heard myself cut him off suddenly. Orphanage?

He looked momentarily surprised at my outburst, as it wasn't the most opportune time to interrupt, but his easy expressions soon returned and he prepared for what seemed like a long explanation.

"Are you sure you want to hear the tragic back story?" He managed a soft smirk.

I felt myself nod. Anything to postpone my own impending doom, right?

"Ah, when I was young, still in France, my maman was very sick…" he looked at anything but me.

"Papa had run off before I knew him, and it was only a matter of time before she died. They sent me to an orphanage in the middle of nowhere. At first I hoped and prayed that someone would adopt me, as most kids were found to be adorable and were taken and loved…but no one ever came for me. No one wanted the boy with the long hair and overly flamboyant personality who sometimes wore dresses. Non…no one wanted someone like that to take home. I stayed in that orphanage for years before my aunt found out about me. I suppose it was enough time to do the damage."

I stared at his face, trying to read his expression. I could picture him at a young age, being cast aside for being different. They blocked out his sunlight and he had to live in a darkness that didn't suit him in the slightest.

"My Aunt lived here so I came to stay with her and her two daughters. Michelle is adopted too…It's a bit cliché I know."

"No it's not, not really." I didn't know why I felt I had to reassure him, but I couldn't seem to stop the words from coming out of my mouth. "It's awful…I never would have guessed…"

"Well you wouldn't would you?" His words weren't cold, just quiet.

I stared at the soft sheets that I was currently wrapped in, not knowing what else to say. Out of all the possible reasons he would have hurt himself, this was what I expected the least. The image of a little boy trying to get attention by being charming and showing his artistic talent only to be turned away until he believed that he was truly bad. The shock of Francis' truth had caused me to lower my guard that was supposed to be so precise. Was it my turn? What now? I felt those eyes on me.

"Arthur, you can't expect to live life in constant fear of being harmed… tell me what happens to you, I'll make it stop." But how could he?

"But how could you?" It was a broken whisper. I seemed to have no control over what I was saying.

A frown settled upon his face and I waited for him to do something, anything. Perhaps he would realize my lost cause and give up? I couldn't find my voice anymore as I tried to drill a hole in the sheets with only my eyes. He seemed to suddenly make a decision, and what a drastic decision it was. I didn't even notice until it was too late and my small arm was in his grip and my sleeves that were too baggy were being slid up. I didn't even have time to protest, but something inside me wouldn't have anyway.

"You-" I was met with the sight of my own black and blue arm with the scratches and cuts everywhere. I was done for.

He stayed uncomfortably calm as his eyes took in every inch, every centimeter, of my hideous skin. He had taken a deep breath as he turned my stick of an arm over in his hand, trying to see as much of my true form as he could. I wanted so badly to pull my arm away and run. I didn't want him to see the monster. I felt naked. But there was also that small annoying voice in my head telling me that this was good. Why should I believe something so small over everything else in my body telling me to flee? I wanted him to respond. He was too neutral, and I couldn't see what he was thinking. I started to pull, having enough of his observations. His grip suddenly tightened with a strength I was surprised he had, and I suppose it was ingrained in my subconscious to submit to him. I felt my muscles tense up as they always did.

"Who?"

I then froze up; I wasn't ready for Francis to know. I couldn't, _he_ would find me somehow. He would find me and kill me, I knew it.

"Arthur!"

I flinched, trying to get away from everything. I couldn't say anything to him. I could feel the fear pulsing through me even though I knew Francis was good. He was, right? He wouldn't hurt me…I hoped. He suddenly let go, and I saw such a sad look in his eyes that I couldn't place. Was this pity?

"Je suis désole…I didn't mean to scare you..." He had picked up on that? I could only watch him as he let his hand touch mine in what I guessed was a comforting gesture. "Please tell me…I don't like seeing you hurt, Cher…"

"I-I…can't."

"Yes you can I won't let them hurt you-"

"You don't understand!"

"What's there to understand, they hurt you Arthur-"

"I said I bloody can't!"

Silence fell over the both of us as I tried to catch my breath. He let his eyes drift to the floor, pondering his next step. A fine mixture of guilt and rage settled in my stomach as I felt myself slowly calm down. I knew that I had to escape. I also knew that my best option to do so was to go home. I decided in my current state that I would have to face the consequences at some point. I was a bad child for running away, after all.

"I need to get home now…" my voice cracked despite my best efforts.

"Right now? Are you sure?" He was watching me suspiciously. I wasn't sure. I wanted to say no, but I felt myself nod anyway.

He let out a soft sigh, and I figured that I had irritated him enough. He was probably only here on obligation anyway...? _You don't want to believe that, Arthur, don't lie to yourself. _That irritating voice I called hope sounded in my head. I slowly moved to get up, looking for my shoes and the rest of my belongings. Every small movement was painful, but I knew I had to get out before he discovered something he should have stayed out of. I turned to look at him and preparing to say my goodbyes. He stared at me while I worked, his head tilted just slightly with a stone-like expression that made me oddly nervous.

"Thank you for your help…" I began, working on a suitable way to leave quickly.

"What makes you think I'm going to just let you walk home by yourself after this?" Shit.

"Well I-"

"Merde! You already lied once you can't expect me to just let that go!" his irritation was becoming clear, and I couldn't help but feel guilty. Another person irritated because of me. With a sigh of defeat, I nodded, realizing he would at least have to know where I lived for me to escape. What an adventure this was going to be.

He slowly rose to his feet and led the way out into the hall. I was numb as I followed him, head bent like an ashamed dog. He exchanged a few words with his aunt, and her concerned eyes washed over me, as if she was looking for a reason to make me stay and 'get well'. Her disapproval was overbearing as Francis retrieved his coat and handed me the very same one he let me borrow the other night. He didn't look me in the eye as the door swung open and his heavy steps led me out into the cold. I trailed behind him, dreading every inch that was closer to my fate. I knew I probably deserved this for avoiding what I was given. I would be suitably punished, and then perhaps things would fall back to normal. Perhaps he wouldn't be that drunk? I listened to the sound of Francis' footsteps as he silently moved along the old, cracked sidewalks beside trees and gardens that I always found so interesting and beautiful to look at. If only there was time…

I suddenly ran head first into the fabric of the frog's coat as he stopped walking, and he scowled back at me, causing my nervousness to amplify. I didn't have time to murmur an apology before he asked which way to continue walking. I realized we were at the same point where I left him that night, and that he wasn't going to simply watch me walk down the street. I didn't process how badly I was shaking until my hand formed to point down my street. He walked too quickly, I was going to be in hell and he didn't even know it. Anxiety swelled within me and the pain in my chest started building. Thoughts began swirling at high speed and breathing became increasingly difficult. I found myself face to face with the haggard excuse that was my house and slowly looked to see Francis and his disgruntled expression. Not what he expected, eh? I couldn't look at him as he took in the deteriorating shutters and siding, the cracks and chips, and the dents in the old door. I was sure he was revolted at the sight of this. He would be revolted with me. The old car sat in the driveway, sealing my fate, as there would be no way to escape him if he heard me.

"Well here you are, goodbye," I stuttered, my words jumbling together, most likely sounding painfully incoherent.

"Arthur…" His voice was laced with a new element. It wasn't pity…perhaps it was guilt? It couldn't be. It was most likely shock and disgust. Nevertheless, I couldn't walk in without hearing what he had to stay. I looked at him.

His eyes scanned over my living conditions once again and stared at me, eyes conflicted and glassy. He was always so emotional. A clatter and clash sounded too loudly from inside the house and the irritated yells of my father made their way through the door where everyone could hear, and I saw him flinch as a sense of fear overcame him. Maybe it would scare him off? With a heavy sigh, my feet, though as heavy as iron, moved up the old path and towards the door to my cage. My hand brushed to door handle when he finally found his words,

"I can't let you go in there!" he sounded so desperate, and his voice was so loud.

Francis always was intelligent, more so than most people thought. He was able to analyze a situation so quickly, and in the next moment he would have a plan to get out of it. Now, he stood there, analyzing my situation, realizing my fate, only he had no plan to get me out. He would be forced to watch this chaotic disaster unfold before his eyes. Poor Francis, always wanting to help the needy, now having no power to help the scrap of a person teetering on the rope who was ready to fall to a cold, hard death, what shall he do now? I couldn't think of inspirational or reassuring words, as there were none for this situation. I could only give him the smallest of smiles before going to turn the handle. Only it didn't open.

Instead, as if this was precariously planned, I heard footsteps and I shrunk back in fear, he was waiting; he must have heard Francis yell. The lock turned, and the door swung open in slow motion. There in the open he stood, the monster revealing itself for the first time. I could feel the Frenchman's shocked expression on the back of my head. I saw my father look Francis over and I desperately prayed he wouldn't decide to hurt him. He couldn't, not without a fight from me, even though it wouldn't add up to much. Francis didn't deserve this fate thrust upon me. I saw a smile start to spread over the man's face as he tried to appear friendly. _Friendly. _

"Thank you for bringing my son home, I was _so_ worried," How could he sound so pleasant? If someone heard him now they would see someone who seemed truly concerned, but part of me prayed that Francis wasn't that naïve.

My captor moved aside, silently ordering me to go inside. I did so without hesitation, knowing any small thing I did would work against me at this point. I heard the two exchange a few words, and I caught Francis' cheery tone return. My heart sunk. The door finally closed, and I felt the overwhelming shadow come up behind me. His breath was on my neck, and the smell of alcohol overwhelmed my senses. I felt that disgusting mouth against my ear and a hand move to firmly hold my jaw.

"You have exactly 30 seconds to be upstairs in your corner, or you won't have the legs to allow you to go to your boyfriend's anymore."

I was released and shoved towards those stairs. I could only obey him as he went into the kitchen, grabbing various things as he went along. My stomach twisted as I was forced to walk _there_ on my own will power. I didn't even have the thought to cry.

**So sorry if this is a stupid chapter. Like I said, busy busy. The next chapter should be posted by the New Year, as I have nothing to do in my life right now. For all those who celebrate, happy holidays. Next update will be soon! Thank you to all those who read!**

**Translations:**

**I'm sorry- Je suis désole**

**Shit-Merde **


	7. Chapter 7

**I managed to get this chapter finished, just in time for New Years. Thank you to killerkitty15, SamBon, and GarGoyl for reviewing! I sincerely appreciate it.**

**Warnings: This chapter contains severe abuse and a lot of anxious/dark thoughts**

**I did not get the rights to Hetalia as a Christmas present so obviously I don't own them. **

_Chapter 7  
>Giving Up<em>

I decided to truly give up. Not like the other times when I somehow found a way out of this hell, this time I truly did not care what became of me, I only wanted this to end, even if that meant death. It was all I could do to hide my face with my arms as he went on his rampage. Belt lash after belt lash, bottles flew, shattering on the wall behind me, the shards landing all over. His kick, punches, slaps, and _screams._ It was only a matter of time before something was kicked just a little too hard and was broken. I could taste blood, and only hoped that my face wasn't too badly maimed. If life was to go back to normal, that meant school, and perhaps if this didn't kill me then that place would.

"How dare you think you could leave here?!"

Yes, how dare I? I was such a disrespectful child for thinking that I could get away from what I deserved. Why was I trying to cover myself if I knew I should be punished? I couldn't do anything as he continued, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping that soon he would see that I was his toy once again and that I would never leave. I was to be kept in this cage for as long as he saw fit. Would we still be here, years from now? When I would be in my twenties and him in his fifties? Would this still happen? I was thrown against that wall countless times and the pain continued to get worse. I was so used to going numb all over, but now I felt every bruise and shard of glass that left marks on my skin. Tears streamed down my face and sweat stung my eyes. He laughed when he saw my pitiful blubbering, making sure to beat into my brain how worthless I was. The thoughts that Frenchman put in my mind were dissolving once again and I went back to the former state of knowing my place. I wasn't worth anything at all to anybody and that was that…right?

I knew better than to struggle even when he grew tired of beating me and chose to release his anger by other means. I could only watch through my hands as he violently stripped me of my clothing and worked to begin his favorite form of torture. Why should I try to stop him when I deserved this? His nails dug into my skin and left red angry scratches on my black and blue skin, purposely jabbing and jarring the sensitive areas to elicit the screams he loved so much. He never stopped, going in and out so roughly, making sure I knew I was his and his alone to abuse. I had faded in and out of consciousness by the time he decided he was done for the time being and left me in my own misery on the filthy carpet.

I grew hopeful when I awoke, realizing that _he_ wasn't there, or at least in the room. Everything hurt, and I had no idea what time it was or even what day it was, as I had only a little grasp on reality period. I felt my heart sink when I felt his heavy, menacing footsteps return up the stairs, most likely with more alcohol in his possession. He appeared in the doorway, stark naked in all his hideous 'glory'. I expected him to go back to his previous actions of abuse, but instead he pulled out a raggedy chair and sat roughly in it, observing me. He violated me all over again with those beady eyes, taking in my curled up, broken form on the floor before him. He seemed to relish in the idea that I couldn't escape. He gazed at my most private areas, knowing he could do whatever he wanted to them whenever he liked.

"You truly are a pathetic child," he sneered; taking a swig of what I assumed was the cheap beer he lived off of, "I don't know how anyone could like someone like you."

I let my eyes drift to the carpet as he chuckled lowly and got up, walking over to my naked form and leaning down. I was hit with the overwhelming stench of alcohol as he looked me over, and I felt his harsh hand run up my thigh and slap my backside with a force that made me wince. I felt so disgusted by the sensation of his skin that I felt like I would be sick all over again.

"I expect you to act like everything is normal, you know. It's been two days, people will grow suspicious. You will go to that school of yours, and make no mention of whatever kind of 'pain' you are in. No one is to suspect a thing, understand? Don't think I didn't hear what that French boy said to you."

That large hand roughly pulled me into a sitting position and held me there so I couldn't collapse again. Immense discomfort washed over me, and I tried to figure out a way that I would make it through the day unnoticed by the now very watchful frog that was in so many of my classes. I had to be a good child now. Good for his image, so everyone at whatever his job was would continue believing how good a person he was, or how great a worker. I was sure he was the one everyone turned to for his problems, as he was ever so hardworking. I wonder how they'd react if they knew that same man took his daily frustrations out on his teenage son back at home? Or if they knew that he drowned himself in alcohol every chance he got? When he let me go, I knew he expected me to still sit there, and if I were to lie down that he would just hit me all over again.

"What are you sitting around for? You have exactly half an hour to be at that front door. You aren't walking to school anymore after your sorry attempt to escape."

Too afraid of what would happen if I disobeyed him, I used everything around me to help me into a sad excuse of a standing position. I let a soft sound of agony and felt the warning glare from where that man was dressing himself. How I managed to get from the corner to my old sanctuary was a miracle in itself, and if anybody were to ask I'd say it was the adrenaline from the constant panic that flooded my veins. As I looked around the old bathroom I sighed, realizing then that this place wasn't as safe as I once thought it would be. No, safety was soft sheets in a house that had a nice woman and man with two little girls and an irritatingly caring Frenchman who had eyes that were too bright and a laugh that went from unbearable to reassuring before one could bat an eye. But I knew safety like that was never an option, and it never would be. As I tried to make myself cleaner and more presentable, I shivered, feeling him everywhere.

I faced the stairs and frowned deeply, knowing that even the smallest movement would send all types of pain throughout my body. If I couldn't get down these then how would I at school? What would people think? Would they get suspicious like he said they would? Taking one small step at a time, I managed to get down the creaky stairs after at least five minutes. By the time I was able to find all of my belongings I realized that any of the work I still had to make up wasn't finished, and that for the first time, I didn't care. I was stuck here anyway, why should I bother? I felt like slapping myself and crying at the same time for the thought, but realized that I was probably right. The man stomped down the stairs and pushed me out into the cold air, shoving me into his old car. It was the first time I had ever been in a car with him alone, and I was revolted by the entire experience. He was so close the entire time, and his hand would feel me, probably loving how it made me cringe.

I remembered how long it had been since I had actually been to school when he pulled up. He didn't hesitate in reinstating his earlier warning with a harsh pinch of my arm before making me get out of the car. It was shameful, really, the stumbles and the soft whimpers as I tried my best to make it in the chaotic mass of students. I hardly comprehended where I was going until I was trying to catch the breath that kept escaping me in the seat of first period. I didn't take notice of anything around me, not even the work that was on the board, I just wanted to close my eyes and sleep. The sound of shuffling alerted me of another's presence, and I felt that hand on my shoulder. His voice was in my ear, and I tried so very hard to ignore those poisonous, yet somehow wonderful, thoughts from getting in my mind.

"I was worried about you, Arthur, are you alright? How badly are you hurt?"

I couldn't tell him. He knew so much already and that knowledge could prove to do more harm than good for his own well-being. I turned the other way, knowing that it would hurt him. I knew that his already fragile self-assurance and esteem would take a hit from my action. He hated to be ignored. My heart clenched painfully when his hand slowly drew back and I heard him turn towards his own work. It was for the best. His words and character would make me want to disobey my father again and this time I wouldn't come out of that house at all, I was sure of it. He didn't say anything to me, not even when I wheezed or winced at every small flick of a finger. I only glanced once and was shocked to find a sharp frown and glassy eyes, not realizing how far he had fallen into my pit of despair. I only hoped that he would be able to climb out and forget about me or what he had seen.

I didn't remember anything else of that morning save the angry and confused lectures from my teachers about not performing to my normal standard. They all blurred together, and I only saw their faces circling in my mind, confirming how disappointing I was. Students laughed and made their comments about my appearance or how I was really done for. By the time I had to go to the only teacher who would pose a problem, I had been publically ridiculed to the point I was numb, and Francis was ignoring me completely. As I sat in that English classroom, the big brown eyes of Mr. Vargas were on me immediately. Even while he was going on about something I didn't have the energy to comprehend, I would always feel them observing how pale I was, or the light bruise that still managed to get under my eye no matter how hard I had tried to shield my face. He was cheery and optimistic as always, but in my mind all I heard was the mix of words and occasional laughs from the other students. As the period went on my eyes got heavier, and I felt my head hit the desk. Perhaps he would take pity on me, and not follow everyone else's footsteps of pointing out how weak I was.

The harsh ringing of a bell was what jolted me from my little nap. I stayed very still for what seemed like several minutes before I looked up to see that the entire classroom was empty, save a particular teacher who was observing me with a perplexed expression from his desk.

"You seem very tired Arthur, are you not feeling well?"

I didn't reply right away, still confused as to why there wasn't the loud roar of the hallways or why I was even there in the first place.

"Normally I don't let students sleep through my class but I couldn't wake you up for the life of me."

I had slept through his class? I had slept through his class! I suppose my eyes filled with panic as he got up and moved to sit in the desk in front of me, turned so he could get a closer look at my face.

"I have a free period right now, don't worry about it. I'll send a note to your teacher for this period. But you didn't answer my question, are you sick? I can have someone call home for you-"

"No!" I heard myself almost shout, "No…no I'm fine, just tired, sir, truly. I'm sorry I fell asleep it won't happen again."

My voice was almost gone, which helped my alibi of supposedly being ill. Mr. Vargas frowned deeply at me, head tilted as he tried to analyze everything about the situation.

"I suppose you got that bruise from falling too, right?"

I froze up. Was he suspicious? Was it really that noticeable? Automatically my hand reached up to brush over the sensitive skin and I could only nod slightly. He seemed almost irritated with me, and I felt myself shrink down. He was probably also angry that I didn't have his work finished. I didn't even know what was going on in his class. As quickly as I thought he was going to yell at me, his look suddenly softened and it almost looked like one of pity.

"You really are clumsy, aren't you?"

His voice was soft, gentle, and anything but harsh. I nodded again, a bit more confident that he wasn't going to press anything further. He offered me a small smile before getting up and gathering several papers from his organized madness on his desk. Slipping the stack into a folder, he put them in front of me, and took a seat once again.

"You can do this whenever you feel up to it; just try to get it in by the end of term…"

I was shocked by how nice he was being compared to the other teachers in the building. Why wasn't he lecturing me on getting my work done? Everything was out of order and was becoming more muddled by the hour. He turned to look at the clock on the wall and gave a long sigh.

"You have a few minutes before the bell will ring again, just try to stay awake for your last class; I know that teacher in particular isn't as forgiving as I am…"

I was able to murmur a small thank you before he got up and returned to whatever it was he was working on before I had woken. I took the time to gather my things slowly, rejoicing silently in the fact that I could go at whatever speed I could, even though I knew he was waiting for a sign to tell him that it wasn't illness or just a fall. By the time I was completely prepared to enter the halls, the bell had rang and he had bid me a good day. I was lucky enough to be one of the first in class, avoiding a lot of the traffic that filled the halls that were much too small for the school's population. I tried my hardest to stay at least a little alert throughout the next period, knowing that I had to do everything perfectly to avoid another beating. Luckily, there wasn't too much I missed that was important, and by the time the final bell rang, everyone was to set on going home to give me any grief.

However, the slight high note didn't last very long when I discovered that same rusty car sitting on the side of the road, with my captor looking straight at me. I hadn't expected him to be there, as he worked much later than school, and I was momentarily frozen in my spot as anxiety gnawed at my stomach. Why? Slowly, I approached the vehicle and by the time I was stiffly on the ripped seat, I could barely contain my trembling. He was in a dirty uniform and smelled like gasoline. I was driven quickly into our driveway and he gave me what seemed like the millionth shove, signaling for me to get out and back into my cage.

"You know what I expect when I get home. I told you there would be no room for misbehavior."

I was trembling so badly by the time I was at the door that I barely managed to get the old thing open. I heard him drive away and knew that he expected dinner when he returned, just like how it was before. I didn't take the time to read what exactly I was cooking, but I desperately wanted to get everything over and done with so I could rest before hell returned. I couldn't even think about school work. I didn't care anyways. I was too worried with what would happen if Mr. Vargas or Francis reported something or came looking. Francis knew where I lived and technically he could show up here any moment and uncover what really happened. I suddenly felt wetness on my cheeks and realized that I was crying. I shouldn't cry. Why was I so weak? The tears came in a constant flow and I couldn't stop them no matter how hard I tried. I sat in my own pathetic mess, and by the time the car came back I was completely cried out. Perhaps he wouldn't notice?

When the man was finished with his dinner, it had all gone rather peacefully (for our standards) until he decided that he wanted to use me once again. This time, there were no harsh beatings or yelling, he just dragged me back _there_. I couldn't stop him, I didn't have the energy too, and I didn't care by now. It was hopeless. He forced such unspeakable actions upon me, forcing me to pleasure him in such nauseating ways, hitting me when I wasn't good enough. I was left in the hall when he was finished, and the door was slammed shut, as I was then irrelevant for the rest of the evening unless he got a sudden urge. I tried to sleep, knowing I would need the energy if I were to continue living like this. I managed to fade in and out as the night went on, but I never truly achieved slumber, something that was also normal before everything went so _wrong._

I was trying to get used to the new cycle that I found myself in when I felt him kick me so I would awaken fully. It was the same as yesterday morning, I was to get dressed and be ready to leave so he could get to his job and I could be his unsuspicious, pitiful son. I felt sick the entire time as I was trying to remember what I had to do today and when. My head spun at every opportunity and I was sure I was going to spill what little food I had in me everywhere. I didn't know what was wrong with me. The taste in my mouth was awful as I sat in that car for the third time, trying to be as close to the door as possible. The drive seemed endless, and when we finally arrived I got out as quickly as I could manage and tried to move out of his line of sight, knowing he was watching my every move. I felt a severe headache coming on as I moved through the halls, and I almost wished that he had kept me home as his toy another day.

The lights were too bright and everything was too loud as the first two periods flew by. I wasn't able to focus and everything seemed to hurt so much more than it did yesterday. Breathing was difficult and all I wanted to do was lie on the cold hard floor and hope it would all be over soon. I couldn't speak to anyone without growing dizzy, and by the time the lunch bell rang I was in a straight line for the bathroom. All I wanted to do was be alone or have some peace and quiet, and I wasn't aware of anything as I slid to the floor, letting my eyes closed. Everything seemed to shut down as the minutes ticked by, and I grew closer to calming down. I should have known that I was always being watched by the person who was so close to knowing everything. When the door swung open and footsteps approached me I didn't even have to ask who it was.

"You look awful! What happened to you? Arthur?" whispered the distressed voice of the frog.

I cracked an eye open to see him kneeling in front of me in such a close proximity that I actually considered leaning forward onto him for support. I didn't have the voice to answer, but I did register that I needed to get away before everything went awry with my secret. I tried to scramble to my feet but had to move much slower and winced at every motion my body made. I felt hands supporting me before Francis unleashed his contained despair.

"Stop hiding from me, Arthur, I know what happens, you need help. Can't you see that I'm willing to do what is necessary to get you out? It's possible; you don't have to be stuck there forever! Just let me in…"

I had stopped hearing him. Everything was all wrong. He was going to report everything. Everything would be revealed. He would find me and kill me along with Francis, knowing I had truly disobeyed him for the last time. He would torture me and try to draw the most pain from me that he could. I didn't want any of this anymore. The pain in my chest grew immense and I couldn't get a proper breath. For a moment I truly thought I was dying. I only heard the jumbled words from the person in front of me as everything started to swirl. I grew hot and felt myself leaning forward. I caught the other's startled shout of my name before everything grew dark.

**The next chapter should be posted soon. School starts up next week so I have to prepare for that, but I'll try to get a chapter up before then. Have a happy New Year for those celebrating and I hope you enjoyed this chapter, even if it wasn't my best. Thank you all so much for reading! Until next time. **


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